Jahn awoke, the warm light of dawn setting the attic's dust aflame. He sneezed, shook his aching head. He looked around him, at the dusty attic, with its ancient wardrobe looming foreboding in the corner. He remembered. Jahn swore to himself. How could he have messed this up so badly? He was so incapable that panic could overtake him at any moment. His failure filled him with despair. Stalking over to the creaky bed in the corner, he wrapped a bandage around his head, and looked out into the warmth of the day. How could I miss my one chance to break free from insignificance, to be someone.